


Lesser of Two

by lbro009



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Endless Waltz, Preventers (Gundam Wing)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:18:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbro009/pseuds/lbro009
Summary: The year is AC 200 and whilst on a routine Preventer mission, Chang Wufei and Sally Po have found themselves as hostages on a countdown to doom, that is, unless Lady Une is able to secure their release. But the terms would have potentially wide-reaching repercussions, not least for the other pilots, should they be agreed to. Either way, trouble is brewing in the Earth Sphere Unified Nation...





	Lesser of Two

_0800 hours_

 

“Twenty-four hours, remember?”

“Yes, I got you the first time.”

Water’s voice was even, a little deeper than it might normally be, perhaps trying to sound imposing. But it wouldn’t work here. As the head of this operation, he was eager that things went as planned, and a bit of attitude from a captive wasn’t going to put him off. He frowned. “You know what to say.”

“Yes.”

When given the nod, a comrade tore off the blindfold. The blonde woman blinked against the harsh fluorescent strip light, eyes narrowing into the lens of the camera that was perched upon a tripod in front of her. Before opening her mouth, her gaze flicked to right then left, until it caught what it wanted. The young man, her partner in crime- they had mockingly termed him- was blindfolded, as she had been. Two guns were pointed his way; you could never be too cautious with that one. There were rumours about him. Reports had been accessed. The agency couldn’t wash away what he once was from his hands.

“Move,” the male Preventer was ordered, then pushed forward into a hard plastic chair beside his colleague. “She speaks. Not you.”

Once his blindfold was removed, he stared straight ahead, black eyes fixed on the opposite wall. A shame for him he could not perfect the proud demeanour and ramrod gait he’d had upon capture; his chin was held a notch lower than it used to. He'd had such a stern look in his eyes when they brought them here but now they seemed dulled. Perhaps it was the- admittedly mild- beatings he had received as they tried in vain to exact what they wanted. Not enough to need hospitalisation. That was the limit. Or perhaps, the sleep deprivation, the recordings of mobile suit battles played on loop, the soldiers’ dying screams cutting through him every two minutes. Still; he had no answers to their questions. Even threatening the safety of the woman had not caused him to budge. Lucky for her, they weren’t about to follow through with that. They’d roughed her up a bit, to see if she would fill in any blanks, but he wouldn’t let his men go any further; they were not to be associated with common barbarians.

When all avenues were exhausted, they would set their terms. And now was the time. A month was all it had taken for Chang Wufei’s face – peppered with bruises- to hollow and though his mouth was tight with apprehension, his jaw showed an occasional tremble. It was hardly likely to be fear, though – not him; he simply looked unwell. The woman- her wrists still free- put her hand on his arm, gave it an almost imperceptible squeeze. He tipped his head her way but did not betray any emotion as they bound him with twine to the chair. Again, no chances with that one. Even if he was sick, he was dangerous. Wild animals could be worse in such a state, wasn’t that right? Unpredictable. It was the same sort of thing with those pilots. But he wouldn’t be any good for this casting if looked as though he didn’t care if he lived or died. Wanting to live was always a plus. No; it had to be her to be the bringer of bad news, someone more emotive in front of the camera. Always best to use the fairer sex for that.

Again; “You know what to say.”

She nodded and began. “I am agent Preventer Water, Sally Po…” There was a somewhat forced blandness to her voice, as she spoke the rehearsed lines: “………if you do not make affirmative contact within twenty-four hours from receiving this message, Agent Chang and I are to be executed…..” She paused and pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, drew in a breath. Still, as she continued, her voice was modulated, but he guessed she must have felt some trepidation in spite of this act. “We beg of you to adhere to the terms, as we dread facing such an appalling death as….”

The recording was clicked onto pause. “You don’t sound as though you dread it, lady.”

“You told me to say the speech, and I was saying it. Before you stopped the tape.”

Her colleague gritted his teeth, shot her a warning look, but said nothing.

“You are mocking us.”

“How so?”

“That bored tone. That wasn’t what we agreed…if you won’t co-operate...”

Was that a minuscule smirk passing across her lips? The slap of a palm connecting with the soft tissue of her cheek filled the near airless room, made the Chinese man wince. Her head snapped to the side but quickly, she righted it. “Son of a bitch,” her partner growled, and began to jostle against the wrist bindings, nostrils flared as he grimaced at the hand shaped mark. His Adams apple bobbed up and down with each harsh swallow.

“Don’t, Wufei,” said the woman and sighed.

There was no shame in her face only a slight smarting of her eyes, a telling redness. She made no move to touch the source of pain. A tough one. He knew she had been military before, and a surgeon no less. Then some sort of guerrilla fighter and rebel leader. The type that jumped on moral bandwagons. Quite a resume, though. It seemed they had misjudged her.

The young man heeded her advice, obviously surrendering to the fact at least two guns were pointed his way even if he could have found his way out of the bindings. But his reaction, however futile, had shown a fair amount of promise;

“You’re better. Seems we’ve tapped into your emotional side. You can do it. And don’t even think about pulling the stunt she did.”

Yes; it was clear now, he was the more suitable candidate, after all. Then man who had executed Treize Kushrenada, reduced to begging for his life on film, even if it was hardly authentic.

Again, the script was repeated to him and he performed without resistance. Whilst his voice did not convey any fear of his potential fate- and having been a Gundam pilot, there was no way he’d become a snivelling hostage- his tone certainly seethed with bile. And those bloodshot eyes framed by purple shadows, the clammy skin, a hint of malaise; they all looked the part.

Whilst admittedly, this was not exactly a wrap, the group agreed it had enough intensity in the clip to jangle the Preventer Chief. That woman, a head of an organisation promoting ‘putting out fires’, when she herself, had been party to many. This woman who sat by while the President ordered imprisonments of the former Barton Foundation soldiers or at the very least, restrictions on their movements. That woman who had allowed a Gundam pilot, and not only that, a traitor to his own comrades, in her ranks. Who had supported the blood-stained Zechs Merquise and remained an ally to those other teenage terrorists, wherever they were hiding. An organisation born of such hypocrisy could never be permitted to succeed.

**

_1800 hours_

It was some sort of virus; that much was clear. Poison had crossed her mind but Sally felt confident in ruling it out. There was no vomit. She had checked him over for strange rashes, quizzed him relentlessly about his symptoms – did he have a stiff neck? Could he tolerate light (not that they had much)? - until he had become irked and told her to stop. He had been shivering all day and had deteriorated this evening, or at least, what she imagined was evening, if that clock outside was correct. The cell did not have any windows, save a small one in the door- and they had counted the days and hours by drawing marks on the concrete using her lipstick.

It was only by chance it had still been in her jacket, nestled in one of the inner pockets. Wufei had called her vain when she discovered it there, and she guessed he was joking because there was a ghost of a smile at his lips when he’d said it. One could never be too sure. She had wondered for how long he would be angry at her and perhaps this was sign he would thaw out before long.

The only thawing out to be done would be purely of the figurative kind. At least they’d been permitted to keep their jackets with the apparently offensive emblem on them; that was something. The chill was unbearable in this place; goose-bumps crept up her neck and made her crave a thick, warm blanket instead of the sorry threadbare excuses they’d been given. At first, Sally had thought her partner’s shivers were due to the cold air coming through the vent, but there wasn’t a chance he would allow himself to shake so fervently simply for effect. A brief touch of his brow almost scorched her. It was probably over 100, she guessed.

Twenty-four hours was the window given to Une, she reflected, which, ten hours ago, they had forced Wufei to relay to her in a recorded message.

“I guess I’m just not cut out for a life in front of the camera,” Sally sighed.

Her partner glared at her cheek, the reddened mark now muted, planted upon some old yellowing bruises. His dark eyes glittered and he turned his back to her. “You don’t fear enough.” The words were a hiss through clenched teeth.

“Of course I do. But I care too…I care that I didn’t want Une to be extra torn over this- seeing us quaking in our boots, did I? You think I really fancy the prospect of floating in a vacuum any more than you do?”

She imagined Une at her desk, a hand raked through her chestnut hair – a common habit of hers- making phone calls, video conferencing with the President and his advisers, chairing meetings – being too frantic to complain about the coffee- negotiating as best she could to secure their location and release. But it wasn’t money they were after – or, at least not only that- and Sally could not be sure her Chief would be able to concede to their very specific demands. Were the lives of two agents, even two of her best ones, really worth such a risk? There was no way Une could betray such sensitive information to an unknown enemy.

“You shouldn’t smart-mouth them,” Wufei growled.

“Says you.”

Although, if she considered the matter, he was certainly less outspoken than he had been before their capture. And it was understandable; he had been subjected to far more viciousness during their interrogations than she had. It was as though they were trying to break his spirit. She knew they would not succeed, but it was painful to witness their efforts. Still, it was testament of his loyalty to Preventer and his former comrades that he had not revealed anything, even at the risk to herself. It was true, neither had any knowledge of the whereabouts of 01 or 03. They could be anywhere in the Earth Sphere. 02 most likely still resided on the L-2 colony where he ran a small business. Only 04 was a dead cert but to reveal him as Quatre Raberba Winner would cause far-reaching chaos and instability, not least to the colonies of L-4. The Winner Corporation could not be compromised by what could turn out to be idle threats.

Even so, Sally sensed that the anxiety- less for himself, but for her- had taken its toll on Wufei. It went against his sense of honour to refuse to protect someone weaker than himself- a woman, not less, even if his hands were tied in every respect.

He shook his head, his body sagging. “These people are cowards. They won’t even show their faces to Preventer.”

She nodded, touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wufei….” she said. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you….”

He did not respond. Later, she realised his silence on that matter was an act of kindness.

Sally tossed him the blanket and seated herself beside where he was slumped on the one cot in the cell. Since their first night here, they slept side by side with their knees drawn up and their backs against the wall. At first, they had made great efforts not to touch but after a month, familiarity and exhaustion had set in, and once, she had awoken with her cheek against his shoulder and his face resting against her head. He was singing a song in Mandarin, a quiet song about a little bird, almost a whisper, his words tickling at her brow. It had a beautiful, comforting tune. She wanted to ask what it was but she had been too tired and sore to speak. 

**

_1900 hours_

7pm now, she guessed, squinting at the clock she could barely see through the slice of glass on the door. Was it worth adding another mark? Could she even be bothered to anymore?

On cue, as it did the same time every day, ‘nourishment’ materialised; two food pouches and drink cartons shoved through the door- preceded by a pistol, of course, that swiftly withdrew when the tray skittered over the tiles and the door slammed. _“You forgot to say bon appétit,”_ she had grumbled at first, but eventually, the humour wore off.

“You want food, Wufei?” It was a silly question.

“No….” he mumbled. “You have it….”

Sally was tempted, as poor as the food was. No, she resolved. She would feel too guilty if she consumed it all herself. And yet, hunger was gnawing at her insides. There was a horrible film over her teeth; the last time she’d seen a toothbrush was before they’d set off on their mission, before the shuttle hardware had malfunctioned, the thrusters losing speed, hours from the nearest fuelling station. In addition, somehow the oxygen generator was stalling.

They had been near to the orbit of L-3, when they had been seized upon. Hunted down, was a better term. It had been a large vessel with markings of a Sweeper Ship, usually a friendly and welcome sight.

 _“I have a bad feeling,”_ Wufei had said at her left, watching the image and sounding more than a little supercilious.

_“Well I have a good one.”_

_“We shouldn’t assume anything.”_

_“They’ll have engineers. Probably better than ours.”_ She huffed, wondering at the incompetency. Pointing to the gauge on the console, she added; _“We’re not producing as much oxygen….we need to get to the bottom of it.”_

 _“It’s not an emergency yet,”_ he had countered. _“We can wait. I’m sure I can work out what the issue is…I’ve worked on mobile suits; this shouldn’t be a big deal.”_

Sally continued her case, keeping her tone reasonable. _“Even so; the fuel bar is ok but we’re not getting anywhere fast with these thrusters.”_

_“I can look at that too. It’ll be a valve or something.”_

That did not sound very specific. Maybe he had known his Gundam inside out – Nataku, he had called it and still would not reveal to her why – and they had been trained to make routine repairs to Preventer crafts, adapting prior knowledge for more specialised repairs if absolutely necessary, but they were losing time. Hadn’t Maintenance deemed everything in good order pre-take-off?

_“It’ll take forever for anyone from Preventer to reach us. And I could have sworn you told me you checked the backup breathing tanks before take-off but they’re empty.”_

The suggestion he had forgotten was met with a glare of denial, followed by a curt _“I did”_.

 _“Odd.”_ She ploughed on regardless; _“Well, I still say we just have to take a leap of faith. Radio base, give them our location- explain we’re getting picked up by the Sweepers.”_

Leaps of faith had often served her well in the past and she had seen no reason to doubt right then. And besides, if something was amiss with the gas thrusters, one didn’t want to risk an explosion. Surely, Wufei, as an intelligent man would see this. Her partner had frowned and made little move to respond, so she took over, before making contact with the approaching ship and securing them refuge. _“They said we can dock."_ She stretched her arms above her head and laced her fingers, felt her joints click. _"I didn’t even have to beg.”_

_“So I heard.”_

The muscles in his jaw were clenched, as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He had known, hadn’t he? How had he known? She should never have overridden him but at the time, it had seemed sensible. Occasionally, her partner would employ a different kind of sense, and damn, he had been right before, hadn’t he? Well; at least he refrained from saying “I told you so” as they came face to face with the truth, and later, their new less-than five star accommodation.

In the present, Sally was, once again reminded that the lipstick calendar was somewhat accurate-a month must had passed since then; there was a low nagging pain in her abdomen and she knew what that likely heralded in the next day or two (if she wasn’t dead in Space, that was). She had learned to deal with most indignities over the years- but that? A frustrated groan escaped her. At least their toilet was separate. Twice they had allowed them to shower, in what looked like a school gymnasium, and their guard had had insisted on standing there, hand on holster, as if she might make a break for it and run naked through the compound. The thought was only slightly amusing; there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for freedom but that might be a step too far, even for her.

Wufei had insisted he accompany her, though she knew he would avert his eyes if the need arose. She also knew why he wanted to be there; she was a strong, woman, skilled in combat, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think she had anything near to his strength. If only, he could be less obvious about reminding her of this fact.

 _“Or maybe you just want to glimpse a naked woman,”_ she had jested and he hadn’t seemed amused. Sometimes, she woefully misjudged how far to take a joke with him.

_“I am just protecting your honour.”_

_“Nobody can take my honour, whatever evil they do to me. Only their own.”_   She had sounded far more confident than she felt. The truth was, there was very little he could do to aid her here, and she guessed he had enough common sense to know this. 

The day of their capture, she had realised her womanhood was still a severe sticking point for him, when the ‘Sweepers’ dragged her off the gangplank, jammed a pistol against her head, before he had even made a step to leave the craft. It was an act that told him what would happen if he turned back to make a run for it.

 _“Go!”_ she had yelled, in spite of her growing fear. _“The comm... Now!”_

But he had wavered, for once looking like the lost boy he had been five years ago; she saw him imagine her blood and brain splattered over the floor of the evidently stolen ship. The cold muzzle butted against her temple once more for emphasis. In the end, he had stepped onto the gangplank and put up his hands.

 _“I’ll strike you a deal,”_ he had hissed to their captors, sounding comfortingly arrogant, as though he had everything in hand.

 _“Wufei, what are you saying?”_ she gasped. _“Think of Preventer! Nothing else!”_

_“I’ll surrender myself without word to Preventer, if you keep us together and you do not lay a finger on my partner.”_

They had not exactly kept to these terms, but there were no assaults of a sexual nature, no broken bones or severe bleeding. And the two of them still had all of their teeth. Small mercies. Perhaps it was that fierceness in his dark eyes that had warned them off taking things too far.

Sally’s own eyes trailed away from the scarlet lipstick streaks on the wall, grimacing against those rotten cramps.

“You need to drink,” she said to Wufei. “At the very least.”

Rising from the cot and grabbing the cartons, she pierced one and tried to coax the straw into his mouth. He made a weak, annoyed attempt at protest but she resorted to forcing it by squeezing his jaw. Droplets on the nasty, synthetic-tasting liquid trickled down his chin but it seemed he’d taken something. She pulled his head onto her shoulder, the burden of the dwindling hours bearing down on her. Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours before, as the threat to Chief Une was explained, her missing agents would be taken from this godforsaken colony – the whereabouts of which, neither of them had a clue, having been hooded all their journey here- and thrown alive off a craft without space suits, the co-ordinates sent to Preventer.

The tune Wufei had been singing. Achingly familiar… It came to her. A long time ago, she had had heard it before- _‘Sometimes I feel like a tiny bird...’_  * It was a song she had learned in school – a rickety old building whose electrics kept cutting out because the village only had one generator-, a time when she had imagined a whole life ahead of her. _‘But who could know how the future will turn out….’_

Sally cast her mind to her family back home in northern China, the family who she rarely even saw anymore. They were nothing like Wufei’s proud clan, not warriors, simply hard working country folk. Was it wrong to have wanted more for herself? The satisfaction of closing a wound. The adrenaline rush of finding another Gundam. Were these selfish things? Of course, her efforts were for others, for those who couldn’t survive, those who could not fight. But had a small part of her done it for herself? And if so, was this so wrong? Whatever it was, she had been away from home for too long. Hadn’t even met several of her nieces and nephews. She should have written more often and not gotten too buried in her work. How she missed her father’s cooking; it surpassed anything she had ever eaten.

And Lucrezia Noin, her dear friend. It was a shame she went off to Mars so soon after the war; Sally would have liked to have spent more time with her. How did Noin always manage to look so flawless on a vid screen? Sally imagined her friend’s reaction to the news of the two unfortunate Preventers found flash-frozen and bloated, all their soft tissue shot to pieces. Even sporting a blotched and tear-stained face- because Noin was less skilled at withholding emotions, with a glorious laugh and temper alike- she would still look beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

The other four pilots. Where were they? Had Une contacted them yet? Would she, at all? Surely, she must. Maybe Heero Yuy would come. He could do anything, couldn’t he? No. It was not fair to involve him. It was not right to hope for such a thing.

And Wufei….Absently, she rested her head against his dark hair. It smelled of sweat and grease. He should be travelling his homeland. Reading the books she knew he enjoyed. Gaining yet more frankly pretentious knowledge with which to regale her. Healing. Just _living_ , whatever that looked like for him. If only she had not asked him to join her. He was but twenty years old- nothing really. And she, herself, was not exactly in her twilight years. Even so, she had always known to be prepared for any outcome. Dying an old woman in bed was probably not for Sally Po. As a soldier, a guerrilla even as a Preventer in supposed ‘peacetime’, one had to be prepared to lose one’s life. As a Gundam pilot, even more so. And perhaps the waiting for death was worse than the thing itself. Nobody had ever come back to say so, though, she thought with a sad inner-chuckle.

She felt her partner shift against her neck. One of his hands reached out for hers, grasped with as much strength as he could muster. “Sally…” he murmured. “I don’t…blame you…for this…”

“Well, thank you- but I blame me.”

“I love you.”

The words were mere wisps but there was conviction in them that caught her off-guard. Blood rushed to her face. She barked a small laugh, trying to remain light-hearted and not like this small sentence had cut through her. “You’ll regret telling me that when we get out of here.”

“I might not…get out. We might not…” Wufei did not sound defeated, but perfectly reasonable even in his current state. It was true, they might not.

Even so, those words made her heart seize; was this yet another thing he somehow sixth-sensed, a notion that might well turn into reality? There was little chance he, an otherwise healthy adult, would die from this fever alone. But perhaps, if Une did not think of something soon, it would be better if he did.

“And Sally…I won’t…regret…what I said,” he went on. “I was a…coward.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’m not good at…these things…”

She laughed again, and her throat hurt as she swallowed. Moisture pricked her eyes, an errant tear threatening to escape. “What? An old woman like me? We really need to get you on some medication, don’t we, huh? Bring that temperature down a tad.”

Their captors had insisted they had no medication to offer him, which she knew could not be the truth. _“But our craft,”_ she had protested at the time. _“There are medical supplies on board. They can help him.”_

The rabble- whoever they were- maybe pirates, mercenaries, working on behalf of the terrorist group- surely must have raided it while they transported them here, to some sort of remote colony, often found on the outer edges of a cluster. The gravity felt stronger here; it couldn’t be a ship. Was it possible these people were once Sweepers themselves? She had no idea. Most likely not. The guard she had spoken to had made affirming noises but no medication had been brought to them. The best she had been offered was a wet cloth in a bowl of tepid water, which now sat to her side on the cot.

“We need to cool you down a little,” she said to her partner. “Though I’m not sure cool is the right word for this stuff.”

 _Love her?_ She snorted inwardly. It was so typical of Wufei to leave it to the eleventh hour to drop something like that on her, when they looked like hell and smelled even worse; always in his own time. But for crying out loud, why now? Of all times and places, when for so long, all she ever got out of him was a grunt or two? She couldn’t remember when they became friends- proper friends- the past years, every tiny step forward, seemed to have morphed into a haze.

She picked up the cloth- a rag, it would be better termed- and dipped it in the bowl, squeezing the liquid through her fingers and placing it against his head.

“I used to be…. such a… bastard,” he said, grimacing at the wetness. Perhaps he too, was contemplating their friendship.

“Just a little bit.” She smiled, hoping he sensed the affection along with the truth; the war had certainly ignited the worst in him at times. Particular events, she guessed, he often replayed to himself. “But you had a good heart. A ‘bastard with a heart’. That sounds ok doesn’t it? ”

It might have roused a laugh in other circumstances but all she saw was his lips curve up a fraction. Almost as soon as they did, they dropped again and his brows knitted. “If you get out….you must tell that woman….your friend…”

“I have many woman friends…”

“OZ…woman.”

“Noin?”

“Yes…her. Say….that…” A sigh of breath escaped him. “…I am sorry……”

Sally gave a slow nod, his reason dawning. “Sure thing. I’ll tell her so but…maybe you’ll still get to tell her yourself.”

Now, it appeared, a delirium was taking over him, bringing with it nonsensical murmurings. A few names stood out – some jarringly so- while others she did not recognise. He mentioned Nataku – the Dragon god- again, whatever this name even was to him. It was more than Gundanium, that much was for sure.

“Here, lie down,” she ordered, pulling his head into her lap, combing her fingers through his hair once more, noting the scum under her nails. “You must rest.”

Moisture glistened on his brow, half sweat, half water from the cloth. It trickled down his neck and pooled on her trousers, the same ones she had worn for a month now. She traced the shell of his ear with a finger. There was a tiny mole just behind the lobe. A small scar on his jawline. Such a powerful person, and just flesh and blood like everyone else, with marks on his skin.

“If you are a coward, then I am too, I suppose.” She shook her head, the words spoken more to herself, uncertain if he could even understand these murmurings. “If you know what I mean.”

It was easier to keep such notions to herself, not ever imagining a confession of that sort would be well received by him. Or worse, perhaps it would be a burden on him. Preventer gave him purpose and security; any ill-considered overtures might throw this into chaos. She could not pinpoint the exact instance when she had begun to feel differently about him; the longing had simply crept up on her over the years, demanding she at least take notice, if not action. When he smiled or talked about his passions and interests, when the severe mask slipped and she saw glimpses of humour and eagerness in his dark eyes, when he trusted her with some small bit of knowledge about himself – like the time he had admitted to missing the other pilots- it warmed her heart. Some days, he could be withdrawn and prickly, but other times he would turn up at the office with her favourite coffee. Some of her best times had been spent poring over a report at some silly hour in the morning with empty takeout cartons dotted around their workstations.

It wasn’t that they ever said much to each other in these moments but the silence was comfortable and once, she had yawned and opened her eyes to find his fingers pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. _“Go home,”_ he said. _“You’re no use here.”_

_“You can’t tell your partner she is of no use.”_

_“I can if she spends more time yawning than working. And-”_ he gestured to his glasses, tapped them. _“You should probably get some of these because it seems you don’t read as fast as I do. We should strive to be more efficient.”_

 _“Duly noted.”_ She had smiled. _“Fine. I’ll go. And if you stay up too late yourself, then tomorrow, it shall be me sending you home.”_

The next morning, he was already at his desk and had barely looked up from his computer screen as she arrived. But she saw that he had preemptively fetched her coffee. It had come from the café a few streets from the compound, as she had often remarked the coffee from the Preventers deli counter was like sludge.

 _“Thanks,”_ she said, holding the cup aloft. On it, was her name written in Hanzi characters. _“Why didn’t you just have the barista write ‘Sally’ the usual way?”_

_“I felt like giving her a challenge. She wasted two cups getting it right.”_

_“So; you’ve gone from challenging opponents in battle to challenging Belgian baristas to write perfect calligraphy?”_

A horror had clutched at her, then. Should she have referenced the war like that, even in jest? Wufei didn’t reply but his lips pulled back a fraction, enough take as a smile if she squinted hard enough. Ten minutes of silent working, then he said; _“I thought you would like it.”_

 _“Oh.”_ She finished up the dregs and studied it again. _“Of course. Yes. I do.”_

Year upon year of these tiny gestures- each in itself of little consequence- had strengthened her regard for him. Almost a year later and that damned empty cup was still on her desk. Yet, in it all, Sally decided that just to be his colleague and friend was a privilege. To call all the former Gundam pilots friends was something special and never to be taken for granted. She was not like Noin; would not agonise over what seemed out of reach. There were other loves to be had in life. And she had had them. Yes; she'd had a good life, a good run. 

For a brief moment, Wufei appeared a little more lucid; his eyes cleared and he touched his fingertips to her cheek, then to her lips. There was a growing resolve in his face that surprised her. For the seconds he locked eyes with her, she felt that she saw all that he had never spoken of to her in them- pain and regrets and dogged love, not for her, but for someone else before her. It was Nataku, she felt certain. In an instant, they slipped closed as he whispered. “Don’t…worry, Sally.” His thumb brushed her cheek before his arm sank down by his side.

“Worry about what? I don’t see…”

“It happens…”

“What does…?”

It was useless trying to get anything more out of him. It wasn’t as though he was in any fit state for proper conversation anyway. Within moments, his chest stopped rising and the medic in her leapt to the fore.

“Wufei? Wufei!”

Leaning an ear to his mouth and nose, she could not seem to hear his breathing, nor could her frantic fingers find a pulse. Panic rose to her throat, even as she fought to calm herself. He had slipped away so abruptly. And...there was something odd about him. Medical training had brought with it many cadavers and there was always something chill, husk-like about them, aside from their obvious deadness; an emptiness, a loss of self. She had long since trained her mind to override being spooked by it. But right now, Wufei looked different to them. It was not just his lingering warmth, though rapidly fading – more so than was usual- it was like he had not truly gone. Sally had never tended to think in spiritual terms, but it seemed as though his soul was still present. Yet, how could that be?

He had said not to worry, as though he had some inkling of what was about to occur. Was it possible he could suspend his own consciousness to such a degree that it mimicked death? To buy him some time? Did he sense Une would save them, after all? Or perhaps it was simply a stress response triggered by the illness, a bizarre phenomenon he had no choice over. During her medical training, she had witnessed instances of suspending patients on the brink of death through means of cryopreservation- particularly those severely injured in combat- but she had never seen it occur spontaneously.

Perhaps she was going mad to be thinking such things. Where had she heard that before? Was it from Duo Maxwell, that American boy from L-2? At the time, Sally had thought maybe he had been joking…it was years ago that he had mentioned it. And if she remembered rightly, both he and Wufei had been severely oxygen-deprived on the Lunar Base at the time, so the circumstances were different to this instance. Une had saved them that time too. She had to chuckle at the irony. No; she was a rational person- a former doctor, for crying out loud. Wufei wasn’t breathing, so shouldn't she be doing CPR and fast instead of entertaining dubious theories? Was imprisonment slowly turning her nuts?

 _“He is no medical marvel…He has no pulse…He’s dead, Sally, he’s dead…!”_ Her mind screamed and a hideous thought struck her then: perhaps she shouldn’t act at all. Perhaps this was kinder, more merciful. Let him go like this, in this cold, serene-looking state, even if she was to be left alone, to wait, to wonder about the potential missed deadline and what it might be like to simultaneously burn and freeze in the vacuum of Space.

 _'Une, I don’t envy you',_  Sally reflected. _'What are you going to do, my friend?'_

Her wonderings were brief, as the walls began to rattle and shudder, and all the while, Wufei stayed peaceful and still as a corpse in her lap. It was an explosion, she was sure of it. Fragments of plaster came loose and clattered around her. There was a sound of yelling and pounding of the corridors outside. A sensation bloomed in her chest, a strange and foreign feeling, but one that she began to recognise as the rumblings continued. Hope.

 

TBC...

**Author's Note:**

> * I love the tune of this Chinese song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkl_7XslVf4 "I Am a Tiny Bird" and wanted to include it.


End file.
